


Send Me On My Way

by RayneRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Depressed Castiel, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Road Trips, Smut, Teacher Castiel, more tags to be added later once I figure out what the hell to do with this story, soulmates?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneRose/pseuds/RayneRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what do you say, Cas?” Dean asked, leaning his back against the Impala. “Fancy a long ass roadtrip?”</p>
<p>Castiel has just been cheated on. Again. Pissed off and depressed, he fully intends to sulk for the next few months. His best friend Dean, however, has different plans. He convinces Cas to join him on a road trip, during which they both discover something in each other that they've been missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Rat Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a heads up, I have no idea what I'm doing with this story. The beginning came to me, and I love it so I'm posting it. I'll definitely write more, and there will definitely be a road trip thing happening soon, but other than that...who knows. 
> 
> Inspired by the song Send Me On My Way by Rusted Root

Chapter 1

            It had been exactly 24 hours since Castiel was dumped, and he was fucking miserable. Sprawled out on the couch in his underwear, near catatonic and covered in Cheetos crumbs, he sure was a sorry sight to behold. He barely even reacted when the phone rang, choosing instead to stare at the moving pictures on the television without really seeing anything.

            _Leave a message after the tone: *BEEP*- “Hey Cas, it’s Dean. Sammy told me what happened with Balthazar…shit man, why didn’t you call me? I would’ve punched the son of a bitch for you. I know you’re probably feeling fucking awful right now, but I think you should come out tonight with me and Sammy. We’ll get trashed and we won’t talk about feelings, okay? Call me back, man.”_

            Castiel didn’t call him back.

            One _Scrubs_ marathon later, the phone rang again.

            _Leave a message after the tone: *BEEP*- “Cas, it’s Dean again. Answer the god damn phone. I know what you’re doing right now. You’re on the couch in your tighty whities, marathoning some random show and stuffing Twinkies down your throat. It’s almost 11, not too late to come to the Roadhouse. Gabriel’s here too, I’m sure he’ll be a good distraction. If you’re not here in half an hour, I’m coming to your house and dragging your ass out.”_

Castiel didn’t call him back that time either. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and proceeded to get righteously sloshed. By the time Dean showed up, true to his word at 11:30, Castiel couldn’t tell up from down. Thank god Dean had a key to his house, because Castiel had forgotten how to stand. Though he didn’t see him, Cas knew the exact moment Dean spotted him, face planted on the living room floor.

            “Damn, Cas. Usually I’m the one who ends up completely shitfaced.”

            Castiel didn’t have the energy to do anything other than grunt in acknowledgement. With a long sigh, Dean reached down and heaved him off the floor, mechanic’s muscles effortlessly supporting Cas’s dead weight. Dean dragged him upstairs, mumbling curses under his breath the whole time.

            “Stupid son of a bitch thinks he can take care of himself…”

            “Won’t even take my damn help….”

            “Gonna kill that cheating bastard….”

            Castiel was lucid enough to hear everything, but too exhausted to really care. His brain was fogged over from alcohol, and his heart was wrapped in a thick layer of sorrow. He only became aware of his surroundings when a torrent of ice cold water smashed him in the face, streams of frigid liquid running over his shoulders and down his naked torso, soaking his boxers. Within minutes, he was shivering like there was no tomorrow and attempting to blow up Dean’s brains with his eyes. The other man looked on calmly, absentmindedly rubbing at his nose as he waited for Castiel to shut off the water and stumble out.

            Castiel stood dripping on his bathroom floor, fighting down the nausea building in his stomach. Dean handed him a towel and waited patiently while Cas roughly dried himself off as best he could while still under the heavy confusion of intoxication. When he finished drying off, Dean took his arm gently and guided him to the bedroom.

            “C’mon Cas, you need sleep.” Dean pulled back the covers, and Castiel fell heavily onto the mattress, passing out the instant his face hit the sheets (in his uncoordinated state, he missed the pillows by a mile).

            Dean pulled the covers up around his friend and slid a pillow under his head. Once he was sure Castiel was out, he placed a light kiss on the top of the man’s head, unruly black hair tickling his nose.

            Then he padded back down the stairs, hopped in the Impala, and headed to Balthazar’s apartment. That asshole needed to meet Dean’s right hook.

 

24 hours, 1 _Scrubs_ marathon, and a cold shower earlier

            Fridays were always exhausting for Castiel, but since this one also happened to be the last day of school, it was a thousand times worse. Even though he taught at a university, he’d found that the students reverted to a high school-type mind-set the last week of school. Castiel didn’t mind too much, as long as people still showed up for class and didn’t cause too much trouble.

            After he’d excused his very last class and had been told to have a wonderful summer by a number of students, he made his way through the halls to Balthazar’s office. He didn’t knock; what would he have to knock for? He and Balthazar had been dating for over a year now. They always barged into each other’s offices, either to continue and old fight, start a new one, or have a good fuck over one of their desks. Sometimes it was a combination of the three. Today, Castiel was in the mood for celebration sex.

            Apparently Balthazar was, too.

            Only he’d started without Castiel.

            There was Balthazar, fully clothed and ramming his dick into a student who was bent over the desk, moaning and clawing at the wood. Both of their faces went from O’s of pleasure to O’s of surprise when Castiel slammed the door open, hands curling into fists as he struggled to control himself.

            The student, whom Castiel recognized as Luc Milton, scrambled away from Balthazar, nearly tripping over his pants pushed down around his ankles.

            “Oh my god, Professor Novak! I-I’m so sorry, I…”

            “Get. Out.” Castiel growled. Luc wasted no time in yanking up his pants and running out of the room. Balthazar tucked himself back into his slacks and opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel cut him off.

            “You,” he pointed his finger at the other man, voice murderously low, “I do not ever want to see you again. Your belongings will be outside on the lawn, leave your key under the doormat. And do not ever come back.”

            Balthazar gulped and nodded, resignation and solemn acceptance smoothing out his features. Castiel spun on his heel and left, barley paying attention as he stormed through the halls and out to his car. He didn’t even remember driving home, just arriving, throwing every last possession of Balthazar’s outside in a haphazard mess, and planting his ass on the couch with piles of junk food spread around him and the TV remote clutched tightly in his fist. Sometime later, the sound of a car pulling up outside reached his ears, and he turned the TV volume louder to drown out the sound of the last year of his life being picked up off the lawn.

            _Well,_ he thought bitterly, _another one bites the dust._

            Snorting at his own joke, he let himself sink further into the couch. Castiel making pop culture references; Dean would be so proud.


	2. Cas Has A Brilliant Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I wrote this chapter faster than I intended to! Don't expect that all the time, though...

Chapter 2

 

24 hours, 1 _Scrubs_ marathon, a cold shower, and at least 10 hours of sleep later

            Castiel woke up with one mother of a headache and a sick feeling in his gut that wasn’t just from his ill-conceived binge the night before. Stumbling into the bathroom, he just barely reached the toilet in time for the contents of his stomach to come spewing out. Dizzy and shaking, Castiel pulled himself up to the bathroom counter and splashed cold water onto his face, trying in vain to shake off the heavy feeling still lingering on his mind. After swishing a generous amount of Listerine in his mouth to get rid of any disgusting evidence of regurgitated Twinkie, he made his way slowly downstairs, belatedly realizing he was still in his boxers. It normally wouldn’t bother him, except that there was someone in his kitchen who shouldn’t be.

            “Morning Cas!” Dean called cheerily from his place at the stove. “Hung-over much?” He expertly flipped a pancake, swaying his hips and whistling along with the music playing softly from the radio on the counter. 

            Castiel answered in the affirmative, trudging into the living room to find a blanket he could use to cover himself. Dean noticed what he was doing and chuckled.

            “Cas, buddy, I was in the same room as you when you were showering last night. Seeing you in your boxers isn’t really a shocker for me.” Rather than answering, Castiel chose to flip him off and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Shuffling into the kitchen, he seated himself on a stool behind the counter and watched as Dean whipped up a plate piled high with golden brown pancakes. Both men were silent for a few moments. Then Dean spoke up.

            “So I went to Balthazar’s apartment last night. I know he kept his old place when he moved in here, figured that’s where he’d go. And I…may or may not have broken his nose.” Dean had the decency to look sheepish as he pushed a plate of syrup-covered pancakes to Castiel, whose jaw practically hit the floor.

            “You…did what?” he asked in astonishment.

            Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “I decked him in the face and broke his nose. No big deal. Asshole deserved it.”

            “Dean, you shouldn’t have done that. What if he reports you? You could go to jail for assault, I’d never forgive myself if I let that happen…”

            “Cas, Cas stop for a sec!” Dean held up a hand, cutting him off.  “He’s not going to report me, okay? He knows he fucked up big time. He knows he deserved it. You’re family, Cas. No one messes with my family.”

            And what the hell was Castiel supposed to say to that?

            No words seemed right, so he didn’t say anything. He just ate his pancakes, and the knot that had formed in his gut began to loosen slightly.

{----}

            After breakfast, Castiel started to head for the couch, fully intent on continuing to sulk in his underwear for the rest of the day.

            “Ohhh no you don’t.” Dean said, grabbing hold of Cas’s arm and dragging him towards the stairs. “You’re going to march your ass upstairs and get dressed. We’re going to my house for a Star Wars marathon.”

            “But Deaaannn…”

            “No, get up there. Don’t make me dress you myself.” Dean’s stern look and serious tone convinced Castiel that the man wasn’t lying, so he grudgingly stomped up the stairs and pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt. He was NOT going to put pants on just to watch Star Wars.

            Meanwhile, downstairs, Dean was panicking. _Why did I say that? What the hell was I thinking? Don’t make me dress you?! God, he’s going to think I’m coming on to him. But I am coming on to him. But I shouldn’t be…_

            Dean’s internal argument was cut off by the sound of Castiel tramping back down the stairs.

            “I’m ready now. Let’s go.” Before leaving the house, Castiel made sure to grab a box of Ho Hos. In his experience, bad breakups called for absolutely _terrible_ junk food; terrible here meaning copious amounts of sugar and high in flavour points (calories). Dean shook his head, but didn’t say anything. He was used to his friend’s breakup ritual, having been present for exactly three. Each time, he’d punched the ex in the face, dragged Cas to his house to watch  Star Wars, and pushed away any amorous feelings that tried to rise up. He was patient; he made himself wait the appropriate amount of time before allowing himself to even think about asking Cas out himself. Each time, however, someone else had shown up and taken the man away from Dean; first for a year, then nearly two, and then again for a year. Castiel was a long term dater –Dean was a long term waiter. It was fucked up and unbelievably frustrating, but Dean really didn’t have a choice.

            He was head over heels in love with Cas.

            This time would be different, he told himself. This time, no one was going to take Cas away from him. He’d make sure of that.

{----}

            “Dude, that’s like your tenth Ho Ho.”

            “Shut up Dean, I’ll eat what I want.”

            “At least have a celery stick or something.”

            “Why don’t you shove a celery stick up your ass.”

            Dean’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and Castiel went on munching his junk food contently, crinkling the plastic packaging and tossing it in Dean’s direction spitefully.

            This playful banter was also a familiar part of the breakup ritual. Castiel got to vent some of his anger on trivial matters, and Dean got to watch his best friend smile with satisfaction every time he “won” an argument. It was a win-win situation for both, though Dean believed his was the better half of the deal.

            Usually, Castiel would fall asleep halfway through The Phantom Menace, but this time he didn’t. The man was a creature of habit –the fact that something was different threw Dean for a loop.

            “Hey Cas, you sleepy?”

            “Nope.”

            “…do you want me to make some popcorn?”

            “Nope.”

            “Well…”

            “We should get away from here.” Cas said suddenly. Dean blinked at him, not understanding.

            “What do you mean? Away from here, like…”

            “Like a road trip. We should just get in the Impala and go somewhere. And not come back for a while.” Cas looked dead serious, but Dean still wasn’t sure. His friend had never been the most spontaneous person in the world.

            “I’m all for a road trip, but…you don’t usually do things without having every detail planned out, Cas.”

            Tearing open another Ho Ho package, Castiel took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

            “Sometimes things change, don’t they?” He said at last.

            Dean nodded, hardly daring to read more into his friend’s words than was intended.

            Maybe this time around really _was_ going to be different.

{----}

            What the fuck do you bring on a roadtrip?

            Dean was standing awkwardly in the camping section, holding a basket filled with snacks in one hand and a book titled “Roadtrip Games” in the other. He could not for the life of him decide if he should buy a tent, suggest they sleep in the car, or shell out the money for hotel rooms. If he really wanted to, he could have gone home and searched through the attic for his and Sam’s old tent, but he was lazy as fuck. It was with this laziness in mind that Dean decided to just pay for hotel rooms and sleep in the car on occasion.

            Well, now that that was taken care of…what else? Dean wandered aimlessly through the store, picking up and discarding various items. At one point, without meaning to, he ended up near the condom section. He paused for half a second before walking away, mentally berating himself for thinking there was even a chance that anything like that would happen so soon after Cas’s breakup. Dean made one more round through the store, picking up maps, a first aid kit, and a disposable camera. Before he could stop himself, he was back in the condom aisle throwing in a small box, along with lube.

            So he was a little optimistic. Who wouldn’t be?

{----}

            Dean wasted no time in packing the Impala once he got back to the house. It took a little digging, but he’d eventually found an old cooler that would fit in the trunk. He was attempting to stuff a pile of pillows and blankets into the back seat when he heard heavy footsteps behind him that he knew to be Sam’s. Neither of them spoke to each other for a moment. Then:

 “Hey Dean?”  

            “Yeah, Sammy?” Dean turned to face his brother, who was watching him pack the car with suspicion.

            “What the hell are you doing?”

            Dean looked from the car to his brother. “I’m packing, what’s it look like I’m doing?”

            “Uhh…why are you packing?”

            “Me and Cas are going on a little road trip. Just to get away for a while.”

            Sam’s expression turned from suspicion to horror in less than a second. “Oh god, you killed Balthazar, didn’t you? Dean, I know you’ve got a big thing for Cas, but c’mon dude! I told you not to murder the exes!”

            “Sammy, cut the theatrics. I didn’t kill him. I did punch him pretty damn good though. You shoulda seen his face…wait what?” Dean’s sentence crashed to a halt when he realized what Sam said. “I…don’t have a thing for Cas.” Mega fucking lie.

            Judging by Sam’s bitch face, he knew Dean was full of shit. “Are you really going to try that with me? Dude, you’ve been pining for 4 years. It’s kind of obvious you’ve got the biggest and gayest crush ever on the guy. And now that he’s single, you’re going to take him on a big romantic trip to show him how much you love him. You’re really not that transparent, Dean.”

            Well fuck.

            Sam knew. Of course he did. Hell, he’d probably known before Dean did. Smiling, Sam patted his big brother on the shoulder and gave him a gentle shove. “Go get him.”

{----}

            It was seven o’clock in the morning, and Castiel was conked out on his couch, surrounded by empty chip bags and candy wrappers. He let out a deep, angry groan when someone knocked on the door.

            “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He muttered to himself. Thin rays of sunlight penetrated the closed blinds covering the living room windows, signalling to Castiel that it wasn’t _too_ terribly early. Rolling off of the couch, he carefully made his way to the door, sure that anyone who would show up before nine had to be an insane axe murderer or a polite robber than knocks before taking everything you own. When he opened the door, he saw that he wasn’t entirely off base. Dean had to be insane to show up at seven, fully dressed and smiling like someone had just told him the greatest secrets of the universe.

            “Hey Cas! Rise and shine, I have something to show you!” Dean bounced on his heels, and Castiel felt that it was beyond unfair for the man to be so hyper so early. Putting on what Dean so affectionately called his brother’s “bitch face,” he addressed him with a voice roughened by sleep.

            “Someone had better be dead or dying for you to be here this early.”

            “Nope! But c’mon, I really do have a surprise for you. Pleeaasseeee?” Unfortunately, Castiel found himself unable to resists Dean’s pleading. Reluctantly, he stepped out of the house, bare feet touching the chilled concrete steps that led up to his front door. Dean grinned widely and hopped off the steps, glancing back to ensure Castiel was following.

            Cas picked his way cautiously through the gravel walkway, wincing slightly at the feeling of sharp rocks pricking the soles of his feet.

            “Dean, this isn’t going to be like that time you said you had a surprise for me, and it turned out to be your brother with a pie he smashed in my face, is it?”

            “I swear, it isn’t anything like that. That shit’s only funny once.”

            “It wasn’t funny the first time.”

            “Yes it was.”

            Whatever retort Cas might have had disappeared when Dean opened the back door of the Impala to reveal a mountain of pillows and blankets, unfolded maps with various points circled in pen, and at least a dozen bags filled with snack foods.

            “What is all this?” he asked, not immediately understanding.

            Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and toed the ground with his boot. “You said you wanted to get away from here, and I…wanted to make that happen for you. I’ve got everything we need; food, pillows, a book with some dumb games if we get bored…” he gestured to the car, confident grin sliding into place while inside he was being eaten alive by nerves. “So what do you say, Cas?” Dean asked, leaning his back against the Impala. “Fancy a long ass roadtrip?”

            Castiel was at a loss for words. His chest was swelling with an emotion he couldn’t even begin to name, and through his sleep induced haze he could tell that whatever happened in the next moment would be important. So he answered in the only way that made any sense at seven fucking a.m. on a Saturday morning.

            “Hell yes.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Amyrat151- sorry I didn't include the little piece for you in this chapter. It'll fit in the next one, though. I promise! 
> 
> If anyone else has a certain scene they'd like me to write, let me know! I love taking suggestions.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to let you guys, the readers, decide where I go with this. Either I'll have immediate smut (like, in the next chapter), and have them deal with the whole rebound issue, or I'll make it a slow build and all the smut will come much later. Tell me in the comments which one you want. 
> 
> BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA


End file.
